


hearing you whisper through the phone, wait for me to come home

by mmxii



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, set in season 2 (+ a little bit of s5 in the end)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 15:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3415304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmxii/pseuds/mmxii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>”Can I get your number?”</p>
<p>The question catches Mickey off guard, and his first thought is <em>”fuck no”</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hearing you whisper through the phone, wait for me to come home

**Author's Note:**

> this just sort of... happened??? idek
> 
> title from 'photograph' by ed sheeran.

”Can I get your number?”

The question catches Mickey off guard, and his first thought is _”fuck no”_.

He's in the dugouts with Ian, for the third day in a row since Mickey came out of juvie, and they're sitting on the bench smoking. They had spent the first ten minutes there drinking beer and talking (although that was mostly Ian) before Mickey had had enough and decided to interrupt Ian's talk about the classes he's taking during the summer by sticking his hand down his pants.

A few moments after they were done and had pulled their pants back up Ian had continued talking about his plans of getting into West point, like nothing even happened. It's one of his favorite topics at the time, so he talks about it a lot. Not that Mickey can blame him, he knows it's his way out of this shitty neighborhood. And he knows that if anyone deserves to get out it's Ian. That doesn't make it any easier to listen to him talking about it though. Mickey just got him back, he can't think about losing him again.

While Ian went on about some geometry shit that Lip was helping him with, Mickey had reached for his pack of cigarettes in his pocket to keep his hands busy. Otherwise he wasn't sure he wouldn't do something stupid like grab any part of Ian he could reach, like holding onto him would keep him from leaving the south side. Leaving _him_.

_Fuck._

As soon as he had taken a drag from the cigarette Ian held out his hand and Mickey handed it over without a thought. The way their fingers brushed together every time they passed the cigarette between them made Mickey want _more_ and he was just about to suggest going for round two when the idiot beside him had to fuck it up by asking that _stupid fucking question_. But he can't say he's surprised, not really. It's not the first time Ian has tried to start a conversation when Mickey wanted to do something that involved a lot less talking (and a lot less clothes).

But _this_ conversation isn't one he thought he would be having, at least not today. Ian had actually asked him about it once before, way back in the beginning of this... _thing_ they've got going on. Then Mickey had just barked out a ”no” and glared at Ian and that was that. Although he doesn't think it'll be that easy this time. A lot has changed and Mickey is more attached to the redhead than he'd like to admit.

(And maybe he doesn't want to say no this time.)

Instead of answering right away he keeps on smoking and just watches Ian for a bit. He's not the skinny little kid that woke him up with a tire iron anymore. He's filled out nicely and Mickey can't help but take a moment to appreciate those arms because _fuck_. The fact that he's taller than Mickey now doesn't hurt either.

As he trails his eyes back up to Ian's face he can see him smirking, and Mickey knows that this Ian won't give up until he gets what he wants. 

But Mickey still ends up saying ”no”, because he's not sure it would be a good idea.

” _C'mon_ Mickey, why not?” Ian asks, and reaches for the cigarette again. Mickey swats his hand away and takes another drag himself.

”Why the fuck would I give you my number?”

”So I can call you,” Ian says like it's the most obvious thing in the world (and yeah, maybe it is). Mickey snorts and hands the cigarette back to the other boy.

”So you can have one more way of annoying the shit out of me, you mean.”

Ian sighs. ”I _mean_ so I don't have to spend half a day searching through the entire neighborhood if I want to talk to you.”

”Ey, it's been working out so far, so good,” Mickey points out while Ian puts out the cigarette on the bench beside him.

”Yeah, I guess. But it would be a lot easier to just call. Faster, too.”

Mickey doesn't know how to reply to that, so he doesn't. He avoids Ian's gaze and looks down at the ground instead. It's not like he keeps arguing with Ian about this just to be difficult, or because he doesn't want to give him his number. Because he does. 

But it's not that easy.

Even though he wants to give Ian his number, there's a part of him that keeps screaming _no, don't do it_. It's the part of him that won't let anyone get close, won't let anyone get in his life, in his mind, in his _heart_ , because that would just end up with someone getting hurt. 

Because that's what Mickey's life looks like. Someone always gets hurt. It's inevitable. And he doesn't know if he could stand it if it were Ian. Especially not if Mickey's the one who was at fault.

When he hears Ian sigh beside him he looks up at the other boy, who's got his phone in his hands now, quickly tapping at the screen. Texting someone, Mickey guesses. He bites his lower lip and looks away again, trying to make up his mind on what to do: give him his number, or not give him his number.

(Does he want Ian to be happy or not?)

_Fuck it._

He waits a few more seconds for Ian to stop fucking tapping before quickly reaching over and snatching the phone out of his hands. The few seconds it takes for Ian to even register what happened is enough for Mickey to find the symbol for contacts and start typing in his number. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Ian looking at him like he can't believe what Mickey is doing.

(He's not the only one.)

”This doesn't mean you can text me about your day or send me pictures of your fucking lunch or any of that shit,” he says when he's done and holds the phone out for Ian to take back.

As Ian reaches for the phone, however, Mickey takes his hand back and holds it out of the other boy's reach.

_”Okay?”_ he asks with a raise of his eyebrows.

” _Yes_ , alright. I got it,” Ian says, rolling his eyes at Mickey.

Satisfied with the answer (even though he _knows_ Ian is going to text him about stupid shit all the time anyway, no matter what he just said) Mickey hands the phone back to Ian, who grabs it out of his hand as fast as possible, like he's afraid Mickey would change his mind. And honestly, it's not like Mickey can blame him, because he does think about it. Only for a second though, because then Ian looks at Mickey and that bright smile is back on his face. Mickey can't help but smile a bit himself as Ian shifts his focus to his hands again to type something on his phone before putting it back in his pocket. Then he turns to face Mickey once more, still grinning.

”Thanks.”

He sounds so happy and fucking _sincere_ or some shit that Mickey just can't take it anymore. It's too much. He doesn't understand this kid. He doesn't understand how _he_ could make someone this happy. (Especially not since all he did was give Ian his fucking phone number.) That's never happened before, so why now?

Because something is different this time.

_(Ian. Ian. Ian. Ian.)_

Mickey needs to leave before he thinks about it too much.

So he shrugs, throws out a ”whatever, man”, and then gets up to walk out of the dugouts.

”I'll call you later!”

Mickey doesn't even bother turning around, he just flips Ian off over his shoulder and continues walking. Ian's laugh is the last thing he hears before he turns around the corner, leaving the other boy behind.

(It's not even been an hour when he gets a call from Ian, asking him to meet up before work tomorrow.)

\-----

Two years later Ian is the one who leaves. During the few seconds when Mickey turns his back on him he grabs Yevgeny and just takes off. Mickey calls him more in the following hour than all the other times since he got Ian's number together.

_What's the fucking point of having his number if he doesn't answer?_

He leaves Ian a voicemail and the words slip out before he can stop them.

_I'm worried about you._

_**I love you.** _

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! ♥
> 
> just a few notes:
> 
> 1\. this is my first fic ever, so i don't really know what i'm doing tbh. one minute i kinda like how this turned out and the next i hate it, so yeah.  
> 2\. idk if i'll ever write a fic again. i mean it was fun but it srsly came out of nowhere so idk if it'll happen again??? but we'll see, i guess.  
> 3\. english isn't my first language, so if you see any mistakes please let me know!
> 
> (AND!! if anyone has any other ideas on how and when they exchanged phone numbers please write a fic about it!!! (or tell me in the comments) because idek i could see it happening in a number of ways and i would love to read some other views on it!)


End file.
